Crown of Shadows
by fluffy kitty of darkness
Summary: The shadows look like a crown upon her head. /one-shot about Bellatrix


_The Quidditch League Forum Competition Season 7 / Round 6  
_

_Position: Captain_

_Team: Kenmare Kestrels_

_Prompt - Captain: Monarchy. Write about Wizarding Royalty. (This can be interpreted however you like — a wizarding version of the royal family, a person/family that is revered as if they were royalty, etc.)_

A/N: Plz excuse me while I go find a hole in the ground to hide in.

* * *

_There are two sisters_

_Or maybe there is a third one._

_The third sister._

_The queen._

...

Bellatrix stands in the middle of her family's living room - it's expansive and impressive with its wide ceiling and richly coloured rugs, a kindling fireplace, and deep mahongany chairs.

Her father is sitting in one right now. Near to the fireplace. Regarding her and the blood that drips down her face from her nose. She doesn't bother to stop it and it stains the rug.

Andromeda is noted for her intelligence by everyone in their large and extensive family. Her ability to learn and memorize dusty old tombs is almost unheard of with their current generation of silly children. She is the mature one.

Narcissa is the beauty and the quiet one of them all. Often times it was common to see the blond girl twisting a young man to do her bidding just with a sweet smile and a spark in her eyes. She is the smartest one.

Bellatrix is the wicked one.

_And in the royal and ancient family of Blacks, isn't that all that matters? _Bellatrix wonders to herself as she focuses her attention on the bookcases against the wall.

"Violence isn't the answer, Bella." Her father finally breaks the silence. "We are far too above petty punches and kicks to further put revenge."

"Yes, father." She replies dully. It gets the job done though.

"And he _is_ family."

That's when her mouth twitchs up, gleefully. "That's why I didn't use magic, father. If Lucius continues to act as though he is royalty in my presence, then I will be _pleased _to show him the results of sitting too long on the throne."

Bad things happen to people who sit on thrones too long.

"He told you to do something?" Her father asks, sounding curious and detached. As though this is a standard routine to do when one's child punches another child and he must partake in the custom.

She hisses. "He _ordered _me." Bellatrix's eyes flash to her father. "Nobody orders a Black to do something."

"Very good, Bella."

She smiles.

"Next time, don't allow harm to come to yourself. If you truly believe yourself better than other children, you mustn't stoop to their level to prove it. Clean up the mess you've made." Her father leaves with that final command.

For the first time since she arrived in that room, Bellatrix touches her bloody nose and pulled away, glancing at her fingers.

But she doesn't stop it from dripping on their rich and beautiful rug.

* * *

The first time Bellatrix sees the Dark One, the one the scared students speak of in the shadows of their dorm rooms - she is starstruck. She is surrounded by countless others that are watching him. Everyone in this room is here for the same cause. To wipe the world of rotten filth. But only one person has the power, the dedication, the strength.

As a child, she was better than other children.

As a witch, she was better than other witches and wizard.

The blood running through her veins makes her greater than any pathetic mudblood that crossed her path. She was royalty, she was a queen.

He speaks.

And suddenly, Bellatrix sees a king. Worthy of her respect. Worthy of her _life._

She leans forward eagerly, red lips spreading out into a wide smile. _  
_

They both make eye contact once during the meeting, his dark eyes meeting hers and she dares him to approach her and invites him in with one glance.

He doesn't even falter and moves on.

It makes her angry. It makes her powerful. It makes her fall in love.

Lord Voldemort.

Bellatrix flicks her wand out of boredom as the rest of people around her erupt into questions and gasps of wonder, and she ponders with almost childlike curiosity - _It's around time for a queen to find a king worthy enough, isn't it?_

* * *

It's only until she's laying in the cold depressing dark that she starts getting surrounded by darker thoughts. Darker than her usual ones that are filled with torture and blood.

In Azkaban, these thoughts are different. They always are for people in this wretched place. Dementers thrive on the weakness and fears of the inmates. The only thing that makes Bellatrix hate them is the thought that she makes them stronger. Otherwise she longs to be in constant fear.

But these thoughts... they remind her of when she was younger and thought Lucius was too prissy and weak to be ordering her around, like a slave, like he was better than she was. She wanted to show him that a throne can only stay with one person for so long.

These thoughts make her wonder when did she forget those same words while she was sitting in that throne. It makes her doubt herself and it makes her doubt her ability to lead her people into battle against the growing threat of mudbloods.

Did she fall?

Has her head been cut off?

A queen doesn't doubt. Otherwise, she can't lead or fight for her people. She can't fight for _love. _

Does she love? Or does she fear love?

Bellatrix giggles at the thought.

Then her gaze falls to her arm. Slithering and grueling against her skin. It lightens her mood. Makes her laugh. A mark of a bride.

One king and _queen _ to rule them all. All wizards and witches, all the people that threaten the history and blood of the powerful.

Bellatrix rests her face against her arm, her tangled hair falling to cover her devoted expression and breaths - _"My king..."_

When she lifts her head again, the moon shines into her cell and it casts shadows on the wall. Shadows speak the truth better than any man. Every Death Eater knows that. who better to know than the Dark Lady herself?

Her smile widens.

The shadows look like a crown upon her head.


End file.
